


Anyone Can Cook

by riane_b13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cooking, Friendship, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, New Years, No Romance, Other, POV Draco Malfoy, Ratatouille (2007) References, side paring Theo Nott and Neville Long Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28713108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riane_b13/pseuds/riane_b13
Summary: This is your year of living like a squib. 365 days of no wand, potions, or broom flying unless you wanna bring out our My First Broom’s again.” Theo snickered.“Oh, that’s what this is. You’re here to find the joy in my misery.” Draco groaned and slumped into an armchair by the fireplace.“It’s a chance to discover a whole new part of yourself. You’re a right good wizard, you’ve always been, but that isn’t all you are.”“Your point-fucking-being Nott?” Draco sighed deeply.“Pick up a hobby or maybe restart the dozen or so your mother put you in as a child.” Theo rolled his eyes and sipped the champagne as he finally sat down in content silence.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott
Comments: 24
Kudos: 36
Collections: Magic Begins From Within - A Dumbledore's Armada Flash Fest Challenge





	Anyone Can Cook

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Magic_Begins_From_Within](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Magic_Begins_From_Within) collection. 



  
The mini-show of fireworks danced around Draco’s face, illuminating the scowl on his face.

“Theo, what the fuck are you doing?” Draco questioned, waving the lights away from Theo’s Mini Popper.

“I’m here to celebrate your New Years.” Theo grinned showcasing a rather expensive bottle of champagne.

“New Years?-“ Draco raised a brow in confusion. He’d assumed Theo came over to join Draco in the sulk of all sulks he had planned to have today.

“Your birthday isn’t for another two weeks and we already celebrated mine. What bloody new year are you talking about?” Draco rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers and handing the champagne bottle to an Elf for them to chill and prepare.

“Not by the Gregorian calendar. This is your year of living like a squib. 365 days of no wand, potions, or broom flying unless you wanna bring out our My First Broom’s again.” Theo snickered.

“Oh, that’s what this is. You’re here to find the joy in my misery.” Draco groaned and slumped into an armchair by the fireplace. 

“It’s a chance to discover a whole new part of yourself. You’re a right good wizard, you’ve always been, but that isn’t all you are.” 

“Six months in Azkaban wasn’t enough. They wanted it eighteen. So as soon as I graduate from Hogwarts, with fucking spectacular N.E.W.T.S I’ll have you. They tell me I’ve got a year of no wand. Not wand probation, but no fucking wand for a full year. You think that’s something worth celebrating?” Draco hissed towards the end of his statement, slouching further in the chair as if he were going to disappear into the leather for the foreseeable future.

“I remember a Draco who was a champion fencer,” Theo continued. “Or maybe pick back up the piano, you were always Mrs. Gagneux’s favorite pupil. Hell, I remember when you insulted Professor Trewelry with an insult bouquet- though it fucking shocked me how no one outside of the sacred 28 knew what you were doing.”

“Your point-fucking-being Nott?” Draco sighed deeply.

“Pick up a hobby or maybe restart the dozen or so your mother put you in as a child.” Theo rolled his eyes and sipped the champagne as he finally sat down in content silence.

<>

Draco had spent the past three months wasting time between states of drunk and hungover. At the insistence of his mother to do something productive, he’d turned to wasting time in the library reading the diaries of various Malfoys.

He’d just put down the diary of his grandfather, too livid at the obsessive way he talked about the Dark Lord when Draco spied a feminine looking journal. Opening the book Draco frowned, he wasn’t familiar with the name of Elizabeta Malfoy. Perhaps she was a branch family member? She was apparently married into the Malfoys and unaccustomed to all of the servants they had. Flipping the book further a few pages he saw a recipe. 

_The Bee’s Knees_

The title was written in English but the recipe was in French. Perhaps this woman had an English husband? Or possibly they were summering at Malfoy Manor? Reading through the recipe and acknowledging that it was an alcoholic beverage Draco turned towards the kitchen in search of the ingredients. 

<>

“Let’s see. Honey, orange juice, lemon juice, hot water, and gin. There should be most of this in the icebox,” Draco mused, opening the door and holding in a flinch as an elf popped into his sight. 

“Is master Draco peckish? Mippy would be happy to fix you something to eat,” the young elf squeaked out.

“No Mippy, I’m fine,” Draco called out, pulling out the lemon and orange juice and shutting the door. Reaching into his pocket to turn on the kettle with his wand, Draco frowned at the lack of wand available.

“Would the young master like Mippy to fix him a cup of tea?” She asked, quickly opening several drawers and turning on the stove. 

Shaking his head no, but grabbing the levitating honey, Draco set the kettle on the stove after filling it with water from the nearby sink. “I’ve got th-” he started and realized how strange it must have been to see. Draco had never so much as made a sandwich on his own at home let alone make himself a cocktail that didn’t involve ice and whiskey. 

Smiling to himself as he set the ingredients down, he looked at his elf. “I’m trying something new. If you’d like to help, you can fetch me the gin from the cellar downstairs.” 

The elf nodded vigorously and poofed away to retrieve the bottle. 

The recipe was simple enough to pour, and Draco’s lips quirked up as he tasted the concoction. “Well Elizabeta, what else have you got for me?”

<>

As it turns out, the mysterious Malfoy was quite a powerful adversary. Draco thought he’d start simple. A classic french loaf of bread. He’d eaten hundreds of them in his summers in Paris— it turned harder than a rock and was now hiding away in the greenhouses pretending to be one.

Perhaps meat was more his forte? Draco always loved eating cornish hen from this little bistro by the Sienne— It was both burnt and undercooked, how he’ll never know. 

He was currently staring over a pile of vegetables, chopped to perfection— because eight years of potion classes had to count for something, and trying to ensure he had read every step exactly. 

It started out easy enough. Saute the onions, garlic, and peppers with a bit of oil until they were tender and soft. He had remembered he did that step right from a failed coq au vin attempt three weeks ago. 

He added in the basil and spices, holding in a grin as the aroma that wafted through the kitchen was not entirely awful. He added in the crushed tomatoes and stirred until it was a beautiful copper color. 

When the sauce was the proper consistency, Draco arranged the vegetables into a coiling snake, having taken an extra few moments to carve an aubergine into a snakehead. Spreading the herb sauce on top, Draco placed it in the oven, covered. Sighing, Draco took a generous sip of the Pino he had been drinking and waited.

<>

Now was the time. Nothing had gone wrong yet. It looked pretty enough, a beautiful color of vegetables arranged in a coiled rope, but would it taste appropriate?

Taking a bite and relishing in a flavor that transported him back to tall grass and long days along the French Riviera, Draco felt a sense of accomplishment run through him. Ratatouille. It was a start, but it meant he could cook, and he did it the muggle way. 

<>

That is when it began, in truth. The ratatouille was the conduit for waking up at five a.m. to bake bread and staying up late to figure out what exactly kept a souffle from falling. His mother believed the lemon tart he had made for her birthday was shipped in and then refused to believe otherwise until he made her another one, in person.

Theo surprised him one evening in the middle of making a simple loaf of bread. However, the surprise led to Draco being covered in flour and white from head to toe. 

The sheer amount of laughter Theo expressed must have caused the shorter man physical pain. If not that, then Draco punching him in the gut certainly did. 

By December, nearly everyone in Draco’s circle had become aware of his little hobby, and the fact that he was rather good at it. 

“Nott. I’m not cooking for your Yule dinner party, and there’s nothing you can say to make me do it,” Draco hissed, walking through Theo’s hallways.

“Oh, but come on, everyone is gonna love it. Blaise and Pansy love your cooking, and I’ve got people from work who need a good home-cooked meal,” Theo pleaded as he led Draco to the Nott Estate kitchens.

“One — Nott — you don’t work, and two, I’m not going to be up for two days cooking just so you can look like the benevolent master and give your elves the evening off.” Draco rolled his eyes and turned about-face.

“Okay okay, well could you at least make dessert? Whatever you want. It’ll go over swimmingly and it’s an incredibly small party of twelve, all in our year at that.” Theo brushed off Draco’s rejection smoothly as he quickly turned them towards the greenhouses.

“Our year, wait. This isn’t some trick into trying to convert Longbottom into becoming queer, is it? I don’t want to spend my holiday surrounded by Gryffindors.”

“Rude, I’ll have you know I confirmed he’s on my team, and if not I’ve invited Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan as a backup. Those two just got married and use my business frequently.” Theo scoffed as they entered the greenhouses, Theo quickly heading towards the herb garden. 

“We both know Finnegan has always been a bit of an anarchist, and so that brings the Gryffindor count to three. Mind telling me just how annoying it’ll be?” Draco rolled his eyes, sniffing the fresh rosemary and thinking if he needed to get a new batch anytime soon.

“Nope. Now I will require two desserts of your choosing, and a few pairing wines as you always have the best selection.” Theo grinned and went off to gather the ingredients he needed for whatever project he was working on.

<>

In the end, Draco decided on something he loved and something that would go over well. A simple dish of apple tarts, his own guilty pleasure dish. He has just set it down only for an elf to quickly take it away to be passed out for cocktail hour. 

Beside it was a triple chocolate fudge cake, a flavor that Draco remembered Neville being partial towards in school. Brushing his hands off on a dishtowel, he left the kitchens and entered the parlor room where he nearly had a heart attack. Standing in the middle of Theo’s parlor was two-thirds of the golden trio. 

Theo was trying to kill him, or perhaps he had a death wish. Draco attempted to compose himself as Potter noticed him first. 

“Malfoy, it’s been a while. Been doing well, eh?” Harry asked, rubbing the back of his head. He’d gotten a haircut, and a large tattoo on his arm in the six months since Draco had seen him. It looked nice enough for him.

“As could be, I suppose.” Draco shrugged and tried to look around for someone, anyone to save him from this.

“Yeah, I’ve been going crazy in the auror department. They split Ron and I up, ya know? You’d be good over there ya know, always were a proper good dueler.” Harry stammered out and Draco rolled his eyes in response.

“Please don’t compliment me, Potter, it pains me to hear just as much as it pains you to say,” Draco commented and smirked at the relieved expression Harry wore.

“Oh my word Harry, you have to try the tarts Theo has just sent out. They’re positively splendid.” Hermione called out to Harry and handed him one of the tarts.

Chuckling lightly, Hermione turned to see Draco laughing.

“What’s so funny? Not up to your standards?” She frowned, crossing her arms over her shoulders. They were covered in a maroon velvet dress that looked nice on her, not that Draco would ever admit it.

“No, I think they turned out okay. I soaked them in brandy this time so that was a new spin.” He winked and his smile grew at their matching shocked expressions.

Swallowing a rather impressive bite, Harry mumbled out, “Compliments to the chef then.”

“Well Received Potter, Granger. Have a nice Yule.” Draco bowed lightly and turned back towards the crowd, pleased the slightest bit at the interaction, even if he was going to kill Theo for it later.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dayofclamor for beta-big this and thanks so much to TakingFlight48 for getting me into this fest. I loved this little piece so much and hope you do too.


End file.
